Epilogue
Like most passionate nations, Texas has its own history based on, but not limited by, facts.
- John Steinbeck
Near Bastrop-Late Summer, 1836
The sun shone brightly, casting a glow across the pastureland stretching out before the tiny log cabin. The chickens, seemingly unaware that they were mimicking their own performance of the previous day, clucked about mindlessly, strutting a dance that appealed to no one, with the possible exception of themselves. The cows grazed contentedly on a flowing field of green grass that spanned perhaps a league and more. Off to the west, the crops stood tall and firm, ready for harvest. It was a placid scene, relived countless times every day across the Texas frontier.
There were now two cabins nestled among the trees, each providing no small relief from the late summer heat. The old barn with the dirt berm had been replaced by a new structure, much larger and sturdier than the previous makeshift version. A sturdy fence had been added, and a corral held several horses therein, each grazing on an ample supply of greenery.
On the porch of the larger of the two cabins, a pair of men dallied, unhurriedly taking in the pastoral scene before them.
As if on cue, Hawk bent forward, offering surreptitiously, “Haauugh, (spit).” Leaning back against the wall, he retook his former position.
The door opened and, Julie appearing from within, the sunlight momentarily reflected from the medallion she wore about her neck. Wiping her hands on her apron, she raised her hand to her brow and scanned the horizon, announcing, “Gettin’ close on to supper time. Where are those two kids?”
“Out there, in the field, playin’ at games with Jackson,” Hank said, pointing haphazardly in the general direction of the pasture. Off in the distance, there were two children playing. Auggey, accompanied by a little girl, appeared to be chasing Jackson playfully about.
“I declare, those two took to each other like brother and sister,” Hawk announced in wonder.
“Suits me just fine,” Julie professed, “We need all the help we can get around here. Besides, that Teresa is as lovely a child as I’ve ever laid eyes on.” At that moment, the sound of a baby’s wail bursting from within the cabin, Julie turned to see what the crying was about.
Appropriately, Hawk hawked and spat, offering up, “That child Travis sure does have a set of lungs on him!”
Hank smiled proudly and responded serendipitously, “I expect that Julie and me done gave him not only a fine name, but an entirely appropriate one.”
The scene now momentarily returning to its former reverie, Hank eventually spoke up again, suggesting, “Expect I’ll have to bring those crops in pretty soon, Hawk. Seems affluence ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
“Hah! You sure got that right. War isn’t either, but in a certain strange sort of way, I confess - I miss it. Being a hero of a successful revolution isn’t half as good as living it, if you ask me.”
“I didn’t,” Hank responded in his typically blunt way, “But since you brought it up, I’ll take this here day over any one of them days when we were at war with our neighboring country to the south. This here is what it’s all about to me. You, on the other hand, never could get used to just livin’ from one day to the next. Always drinkin’, whorin’, and in between hankerin’ for more trouble. I swear I’ll never understand you, Hawk Banks.”
“Well, sir, I expect we have plenty of time to sort out that issue, my friend, in fact, the best friend I’ve ever had on this earth.”
Leaning back in his chair, Hank responded lazily, “Cuts both ways, my friend, cuts both ways…and since you done gone and admitted it, how’s chances your best friend could be a callin’ you by your real name?”
“Ain’t gonna happen,” Hawk responded tersely, “Ain’t never gonna happen.”
“Well, then, could you just tell me it?”
“Nope.”
“Alright,” Hank responded and, apparently giving up his quest, he volunteered, “I think I’ll be goin’ into town come Saturday.”
“What’s that got to do with anything, Hank?”
“Think I’ll mosey on over to the county clerk’s office, check out them records. You know, Hawk, the ones that recorded your full name for that land the Republic of Texas done give you.”
“Damn! You wouldn’t do that!” Hawk blurted, nearly tipping from his chair.
“Naw, expect I won’t have to, ‘cause you’re gonna tell me yourself.”
“Now, why on earth would I do that, you varmint!”
“You done said, Hawk Banks, because I’m your best friend on this here earth.”
Hawk stood up, carefully adjusted his chair and, reseating himself, he propped back against the wall and responded, “On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“You must promise me that you’ll never tell a soul, not Auggey, not even Julie.”
Hank eyed him and, eternally baffled at this amazingly complex man, he swore, “Alright, seein’ as how you’re my best friend and all, I promise.”
“Hiram Henry…”
“What!” Hank blurted in astonishment.
“You heard me,” Hawk growled, “And don’t you ever be asking me to repeat it.”
“Well, I’ll be horse-whipped,” Hank chuckled, “If that don’t beat all…pleased to meet ya, Mr. Hiram H. Banks!”